


Monochromatic

by PrincessMariana



Series: PM's Flufftober 2020 [8]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Flufftober, Flufftober 2020, Gen, Hypothermia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:53:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27023077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessMariana/pseuds/PrincessMariana
Summary: After Dick's parents died, his world has looked monochromatic. Abandoned as a human sacrifice to a winter daemon in a purely white landscape, Dick fears the worst. Bu then Bruce brings back color to Dick's life.Written for Flufftober 2020, Day 9: Monochromatic
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne
Series: PM's Flufftober 2020 [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1951447
Kudos: 106
Collections: Flufftober2020





	Monochromatic

**Author's Note:**

> Um...so this another one where I just kinda...wrote something. But there's actually some fluff this time, instead of what I wrote for the previous prompt. :)

After his parents died, everything was monochromatic. The red of the flames that swept through his family’s encampment. The grey of the smoke that his parents chocked on. The black of the ash that remained. The brown of the uniforms that the local town’s guard wore.

Dick was used to bright, arrays of color. His parents’ multicolored tent. His mother’s blues and reds. His father’s greens and yellows.

The guards in solid brown forced Dick out of his red and green and yellow and into something white. The fabric itched and the monochromatism that it represented made his eyes water.

“Stop that, brat,” one of the guards snapped. “I don’t want to listen to your wails all the way there.”

Another guard rolled his eyes. “You’re making more noise than he is. Leave the kid alone.”

The place that the guards brought him was a true monochromatic color scheme. The white snow. The white-grey sky. The white-silver rope. At least the tree that he was tied to – pale brown trunk covered by thick frost – broke some of the overwhelming _white_.

“When the daemon finds you, tell ‘im we want an early spring,” the meaner guard said. “If you’re still alive, that is.”

After the guards left, Dick was alone in his white clothes, on the white snow, under the white sky. He wondered if his skin would turn white as well when he froze to death. Already, his shivering had slowed to weak trembling. He knew that he didn’t have long.

As he curled up against the tree – barely brown against the endless white – he hoped that at least his death would mean seeing his parents again.

Dick couldn’t keep track of the passing of time in this monochromatic, cold world. He tried to mark the time by his symptoms of hypothermia. First, decreased shivering. Then, blurry vision. Then, intense fatigue. He’d fall unconscious soon.

Around the point where he was forcing himself to keep his eyes open – despite everything, Mary and John’s son was a fighter – some kind of bird appeared. A bat, Dick realized, as it flew closer. Dick wondered if he was hallucinating.

“H-h-hello,” Dick murmured at the small animal.

The bat was all black with flaming red eyes. When the bat landed on Dick’s knee, Dick saw that its eyes were _literally_ flaming. So definitely a hallucination. Dick didn’t mind. The company was nice, and he’d die seeing more than just one color.

The bat chirped at him – a clicking sort of noise. Dick smiled in response. The little creature was kind of cute, scary eyes aside.

An identical bat flew over and landed on Dick’s shoulder. It screeched loudly, and Dick cringed at the loud noise. Were hallucinations supposed to be so noisy?

He let his eyes flutter shut. The first bat chirped at him again, as if annoyed, and nipped one of his frozen fingers. “Ow,” Dick said weakly, but he opened his eyes again.

Both bats chirped excitedly as the wind picked up. Dick was too cold to shiver, and his head _ached_. He just wanted to sleep.

The wind blew around the snow, making it harder to see, and then it suddenly stopped. Dick slowly blinked away the snow in his eyes and squinted at the figure walking towards him.

The bats screeched and left Dick to land on the figure’s shoulders. This was probably another strange hallucination, or maybe Dick was dreaming.

The figure – a man – went to Dick’s side and quickly began untying the ropes binding Dick. “Who did this?” the man demanded.

Dick was too frozen to reply. He finally gave in to the pressing fatigue and slipped into darkness.

+++

When Dick awoke, he was warm. So, so _warm._ He sighed, contents, and curled more into himself, savoring the heat. Nothing hurt anymore. It was wonderful.

“You’re awake.”

At the sound of a stranger’s voice, Dick forced his eyes open. He was lying on a pile of furs next to a roaring fireplace. A man sat on the stone floor near Dick, watching Dick carefully.

“Am I dead?” Dick asked sleepily.

The man grimaced. “No. Fortunately, I found you in time.”

“Oh.” Dick blinked, trying to register this information. “That’s…good.”

“How are you feeling?” the man said.

His eyes were so intensely blue and – Dick realized suddenly – thick horns protruded from the man’s head. “Are you – are you the daemon?” Dick said.

Dick tried to scramble up, but the tiredness from almost freezing to death and the heavy furs weighed him down. His head spun at the effort, and he collapsed back down in a heap.

“You’re still recovering,” the man said. “Stay still.”

“But-” Dick’s eyes welled with tears, and he held back a sob. Despite his earlier acceptance of death and his desire to see his parents again, Dick didn’t actually want to die. Escaping the cold only for the daemon to kill him now – it wasn’t _fair_.

“You’re crying,” the man – the _daemon_ – said. He sounded panicky. “What’s wrong? Does something hurt?”

When he moved closer, Dick flinched away, the sobs escaping him. “Please don’t hurt me,” he wailed.

“Oh. Oh, shit – I mean, shoot,” the daemon said. “I will not hurt you, young one. I promise.”

The daemon awkwardly rubbed Dick’s back until Dick calmed down again.

“The-the villagers said you’d eat my soul,” Dick said, still a little teary.

The daemon snorted. “Mortals. Whatever they told you about me is probably false. I don’t eat souls. Were the villagers the ones who tied you up?”

Dick nodded.

The daemon growled softly. “A mistake I will not let them repeat. Do you have a name, child?”

“I’m Dick,” Dick said.

He tried to sit up again, and this time the daemon helped him, support Dick’s arms with gentle hands. “It’s nice to meet you, Dick,” the daemon said. “You can call me Bruce. Welcome to my tower.”

+++

Bruce’s tower was the opposite of monochromatic. Bruce, himself, wore all black, but his eyes were a vibrant blue and his horns were silver. Bruce’s bats came in blacks, and whites, and greys, and browns, all with literal red fire eyes. The many books and strange artifacts on Bruce’s shelves were of assorted colors. Alfred, Bruce’s sort of servant, wore black robes with blue and green accents. Even the terrible potions Alfred made Dick drink were brightly colored.

Dick never wanted to leave.

“He needs to return to his own kind,” Dick overheard Alfred say to Bruce one evening.

Dick was curled by the fire with a book. He couldn’t read the strange letters, but he loved looking at the colorful illustrations, accented by real gold and silver.

“He’s not recovered yet,” Bruce said firmly. “We can re-assess when he’s feeling better.”

“Master Bruce, he was fully recovered over a week ago,” Alfred said in fond exasperation.

“We can’t return him to the humans that tried to sacrifice him,” Bruce said.

“That is not what I am suggesting, sir,” Alfred said. “There are many good families that could raise him to live a full, human life.”

“Or he could stay here.”

“Yes, he could stay here,” Alfred agreed. “But such a decision should not be made lightly, by either of you.”

Bruce was silent for a long moment. Dick held his breath, even as he still pretended to be immersed in his book. Finally, Bruce said, “I will think on it.”

Dick counted to one hundred. When the sufficient amount of time had passed to avoid suspicion, he closed the book and went to where Bruce was sitting in the adjacent room. Alfred had already left, and Bruce was staring into nothingness.

“Bruce?” Dick said cautiously.

Bruce broke from his stupor and looked at Dick. His smile was sad. “Yes, child?”

Dick held up his book. “Read to me?”

“Of course.”

Dick crawled up on Bruce’s lap. He only half-listened as Bruce read aloud the story about princes and princesses and evil sorcerers. Dick rested his head against Bruce’s shoulder and enjoyed the warmth. For all that Bruce was a winter daemon, he radiated heat.

“What’s on your mind, Dick?” Bruce asked.

“Hm?” Dick hadn’t even noticed when Bruce had stopped reading. “I…Are you going to send me away?”

“You overheard us, didn’t you?” Bruce said in a resigned tone.

“I’m sorry,” Dick said.

“No, no. You should have a say in your fate,” Bruce said. He ruffled Dick’s hair. “I have enjoyed your company, and I selfishly want you to stay. But I can’t offer you a normal, human childhood here. I know a few human families that would take good care of you and raise you as their own. What do you think, chum?”

Dick wrinkled his nose. “That sounds boring. I wanna stay here, where it’s colorful and warm.”

Bruce pulled Dick closer into a tight hug. “Then here you will stay.”


End file.
